


Smile For Me

by Estelathan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:35:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelathan/pseuds/Estelathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Trials are anything but easy and as the after-effects and the days start to wear Sam down Dean finds himself yearning for something better for his little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mild spoilers for the Hell Trials and Season 8

There are days when Dean would give anything to see Sam crack a smile again, this morning being no exception as he pops his head into Sam's room only to find his brother frowning in his sleep, and yeah Dean's fully aware that's some grade A Hallmark-Esq bull right there but that doesn't stop him from wanting it even more. The Trials have been grueling and have done only God-knows-what to Sam in the process, Dean's fairly certain Sam hasn't told him the half of it, but with each passing day Dean finds it's getting harder and harder to watch.  
  
For all his talk at seeing the light at the end of the hypothetical tunnel Sam certainly doesn't look like it. In the past few months and even more-so in the past few weeks Dean's watched his little brother run the gamut between being tense to sad to pissed to, when he thinks Dean's not watching, downright terrified without a trace of happiness in the mix. Yeah, maybe there hasn't exactly been a whole hell of a lot to be happy about lately but still. When you added everything in with Sam's deathly pale sickly pallor, the stumbling, the fevers, and the bloody coughing it all started looking a lot more horror show caliber rather than happy chick-flick and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't starting to get really worried about the kid. Under Dean's watchful gaze Sam shifts and mumbles something under his breath, but thankfully remains asleep much to Dean's relief. He may be worried about Sam but that doesn't mean he's actively looking for the awkward conversation that would undoubtedly ensue if Sam caught him watching him sleep like some kinda creep.  
  
This was the main reason Dean had wanted to do the Trials himself in the first place--to spare Sam. It hadn't been about guilt or who was stronger or any other bull, and if nothing else this whole mess had already gone to prove Sam was a hell of a lot stronger than Dean had given him credit for, but in Dean's eyes it had been more about penance. Yeah, Sam had done some terrible stuff in his time, hell you couldn't be a hunter without doing a few things you would regret, but he deserved better. Dean on the other hand, didn’t want anything better. He was a hunter through and through and trying to do anything else was nothing short of being a mockery. He’d tried with Lisa, and god there still wasn’t a day that went by that some deep part of him still wished it had worked out, but in the end all he’d managed to do was hurt her. He’d never admit it out loud to anyone but hurting Lisa had been the final straw for him. It was the moment Dean knew there was no going back from—try as he might to deny it, there was no escaping that he was bound to a hunter’s life.  
  
But more than anyone, himself included, Dean knew Sam deserved to have a normal life. He deserved to go back to school or find a chick to settle down with and have a couple of kids, but mostly Sam deserved to be happy. The hits had been coming since the poor guy was six months old and there was no end in sight. Every time something barely approaching peace came along something else cropped up to rip it out from under their feet and frankly Dean was getting damned tired of it. While he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel for himself he was determined to find a way for Sam to be happy, somehow.  
  
With that in mind Dean steps away from Sam’s room and continues his way on to the kitchen. The bunker is oddly peaceful this morning and Dean drinks it in as he moves about the kitchen preparing coffee and digging in the refrigerator for eggs for breakfast. The truth of it is, he muses, is that he really has no idea how to go about finding Sam’s happiness. He’d considered more than once tracking down a hellhound and going through the Trials himself but given that the damage, and god he’s never going to forgive himself for Sam’s suffering, is already done so to speak it’s practically a moot point.  
  
That pretty much leaves finishing the third Trial their only option but just like everything else these days the thought leaves Dean with a feeling of dread that sits like a lump of coal in his gut. Maybe it’s from watching Sam stumble around like a zombie getting sicker and sicker right before his eyes or maybe it’s just a deeper part of him that feels this is a bad idea Dean can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of some bigger shit-show heading down the road. He can’t deny that he wants to lock all those motherless bastards down in hell forever and be done with them but at what cost? He and Sam have already lost so much: their mom, their dad, Bobby, their friends. . . How long must the list grow before there’s nothing more left to give?  
  
Thankfully Dean doesn’t have time to dwell on that particular train of thought as the sound of slow shuffling footsteps break into his reverie causing him to look up as Sam rounds the corner. It’s great to see Sam up and out of bed but up close his little brother looks haggard and worn. His face is white as a sheet and covered with a thin sheen of sweat, his eyes are dark-rimmed and sunken, and Dean has to force himself not to cringe at the sight. Sam’s been trying hard lately to go about as if everything’s normal and since it’s his fault Sam’s like this in the first place the very least Dean can do is go along with the charade. It isn’t easy; the long ingrained instinct to protect his baby brother rears up in his head as he forces himself to smile as if Sam doesn’t look like death warmed over. “You’re up early.” He gestures at the bubbling coffeemaker, nearly finished. “You want a cup?”  
  
For a moment Sam regards him silently, looking somewhere between wanting to call Dean out on his fake bull and looking like he’s going to keel over onto the floor but finally he huffs out a bit of a sigh and nods. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees as he slowly makes his way over to a chair to sit down. “I thought you were going to wake me up?”  
  
The protective feeling in Dean notches up a few pegs as he watches Sam, fully prepared to lunge across the space and catch him if he ends up face-planting only to be stupidly grateful when he doesn’t. Clearing his throat awkwardly Dean turns away and begins rummaging around in the cupboard for mugs. Behind him he listens to the creak of the chair being pulled out and the soft sigh that escapes Sam as he sits down. “Yeah, well,” Dean clears his throat again, “I thought you needed your beauty rest this morning princess.”  
  
“Jerk.” Sam mutters in response but when Dean finally turns back with two cups of coffee in hand he finds a smile tugging at the corner of Sam’s mouth. It looks a tad awkward and out of place next to the rest of the misery his face is doused in but as he sees it Dean realizes it doesn’t matter. A smile is a smile no matter how painful or pitiful and Dean will take it. He’ll do whatever it takes to get Sam to smile, no matter what.


End file.
